


toast.

by cl3rks



Series: x marks the spot [3]
Category: Logan (2017) - Fandom, Wolverine (Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, IF YOU FIND PRONOUNS HMU I'LL CORRECT 'EM, Little bit of angst, Logan Spoilers, M/M, Pyrokinetic Reader, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Soulmates Who Never Got Together, Swearing, death mention, i added a second chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-02 02:16:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10206881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cl3rks/pseuds/cl3rks
Summary: He's a very, very bad man.[There are spoilers for what happens to Donald Pierce in this oneshot. Do not read if you haven't seen Logan (2017) or if spoilers bother you.][P.S: I added a second chapter about the reader's escape because people wanted it so much! I'd especially like to thank, however, a reader named Emma and a few tumblr friends for the idea!!]





	1. flames

**Author's Note:**

> i saw logan today and my soul left my body and returned more times than i can count. 
> 
> yes, donnie is a fucking jackass and he's a horrible human/cyborg but i've loved boyd holbrook for a long ass time and i couldn't get over that gold-tooth smile and all that shit so whatever.
> 
> THERE ARE SPOILERS FOR WHAT HAPPENS TO HIM IN THIS ONESHOT. DO NOT READ IF THAT BOTHERS YOU.
> 
> btw you have pyrokinetic powers. (also this is supposed to be gender neutral so if you find identifying pronouns, let me know.)

It shouldn’t have hurt you in the way it did. It shouldn’t have surprised you so much to find out that your soulmate was someone very, very _bad._

The words on your left calf would burn and shift and buzz every so often – as if the person you had been looking for, _longing_ for was near you… always so near. In a way, he was. He was always around the corner, always on your tail, always ready to swoop in like a vulture in a moment’s notice.

That was his _job,_ after all.

When you were young, you hoped you could show off the words as you aged. When you did grow older, however, you wondered if whoever your soulmate would clutch your calf and kiss the words or just gently trace the black ink in their quick, scribbled writing. You hoped, however, that they weren’t rough – because those slants and strokes looked _heavy_ as hell.

You were hiding out at some place in Texas. You were resting before hopping the border to Mexico.

You should’ve pushed on. You wished you had.

Your door was kicked down at three in the morning and you tried to run, you tried to hide, but they dragged you out as you screamed and angrily threw punches that would never land. You felt a hot fire licking up your skin and heard the people holding you yell in agony as you burned them.

You saw a flash of blond hair in the moonlight (and fire) illuminated hallway before you were knocked out with a the butt of a gun.

Your words buzzed painfully on your calf.

\--

You awoke strapped to a chair, very clearly _not_ in your not-so-secret hideout. You groggily moved your head, the bones in your neck popping with the forced movement. You saw a few people dressed like nurses in the room who quickly scrambled to get whatever head-honcho was there.

You practically snarled when you saw the man a friend of yours (now dead) had warned you about.

“Now, honey… ‘M sorry I had to grab ya like that. You were kickin’ and screamin’ an awful lot, didn’t mean to get your pretty head all banged up.” He said slowly, and your ears were shifting into high-gear as they struggled to get past the watery sound in them. _“But ya see, your mutation is really somethin’ else… truly outstandin’, and I couldn’t help be a bit curious.”_

The words on your calf burned and you screamed. He stepped back a little at the sound. “I should’a known I’d get a bad fuckin’ egg! A rotten fuckin’ apple!” You quieted down a little, the sear in your leg dieing down as your voice did. _“You’re a very, very bad man and I want a do-over.”_

The hard look in his eyes softened to something short of _playful_ and he cocked his head to the side, much like a puppy would. He glanced over his shoulder, a wall of dark glass behind him before he turned his head back. “Where?”

“My leg.” You whispered as he bent down, reaching for your right leg. “My _other_ leg, you kidnapping prick.”

He chuckled softly and tugged up the leg of your light gray sweatpants. He stared at his words to you – _“But ya see, your mutation is really somethin’ else… truly outstandin’, and I couldn’t help be a bit curious.”_ – and you saw him take his bottom lip between his teeth and gently nibble at it. “Well fuck.”

“I hate you.”

“Ya don’t know me, honey.” He snapped back, watching you stare him down. He once more glanced over his shoulder and unbuttoned the top part of his shirt, carefully pulling it back to expose your words to him – _“You’re a very, very bad man and I want a do-over.”_ – in black ink (your writing) on his well-toned bicep. You barely had time to register the cyber-hand whirring as he leaned in close to show you better. “When I got my replacement, I made sure they didn’t remove a damn letter.”

“I’m gonna toast your ass.” You whispered to him as he buttoned up the top of his shirt, watching him lean close to you. “And if I don’t get to, I wish luck to whatever poor soul you _grace_ the path of.”

“Mighty kind o’ ya.” He whispered back, leaning too close for comfort. “I’m Donald, by the way. I already know who you are, (Y/N).”

“Burn in hell, Donnie.”

“Donnie?” He asked, weighing it on his tongue. He stood straight – genuinely intimidating at his full height, but you wouldn’t admit that – and moved his head side-to-side. “I like it. Now, I hope you don’t mind if they run a few tests on ya. Real sorry ‘bout this, can’t break procedure.”

“Wouldn’t expect you to.”

You never got to _“toast his ass”_ and you did hate him for the longest time – but you were one of the few mutants who successfully got free of Alkali and Transigen _with that asshole's help,_ much to your surprise.

Sure, they harvested some of your pyrokinetic abilities, but you were alive, weren’t you? The only problem was, no matter how much you hated Donald Pierce, the man who was your soulmate, you found yourself aching at night over not being able to kiss him, or hold him – go on a shitty date that ended in awkward laughs like other soulmates. 

No, your soulmate was a prick. But still, even with that, your heart still felt heavy when the words on your calf buzzed angrily the day your fire flickered on and his died out. You refused to cry when you felt your heart squeeze and you refused to cry as you scrambled to find a quiet place – but you let it go when you thought of everything you didn’t get to do with him just because he was a mutant killer and you were a mutant.

You silently wished luck, however, to whomever had ended his miserable life.

But, all the same, you cried as you agonizingly mourned the loss of him.

Your soul now ripped in two.


	2. oxygen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Donald Pierce helped you escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i added this second chapter cause ppl reaaaaally wanted to know how donnie helped the reader escape

It was like any other morning when you awoke. You were in your room in the facility, ready to be poked and prodded and tested repeatedly until you were exhausted and then tested some more. 

You did not, however, expect your soulmate to burst through the door reaching for you. Even in your hazy state, you scrambled to the corner of your bed, pushing yourself into the wall. You were attempting to will your body to achieve another mutation, but you knew it wouldn’t work. 

“You gotta get up.” He told you quickly, taking the IV from your arm. “I ain’t gonna carry you, baby, you gotta move yourself.”

“What?” You snapped angrily, letting him take your arm and haul you to your feet. The floor was cold as usual, and it helped you from lighting yourself on fire. “I’m not going-“

“I’m gettin’ you outta here, damn it, so cut your shit and don’t be so fuckin’ stubborn.” Donald urged you, removing any other tubes from your limbs. “They haven’t made their rounds yet, so we gotta move quick. Can you run? I can only get you so far before I have to come back and-“

“I can.” You cut him off, hope fluttering in your chest. “How can I trust you, though? How do I know this isn’t some ploy?”

“You’re jus’ gonna have to, alright?” He told you, leading you out into the hall. He led you down various corridors and you thought every so often that maybe he was lying, maybe he was going to hurt you or – these thoughts ground to a halt when you saw the big steel door labeled _Ground Floor Exit_ and you reached out to grip his thick arm, your fingers feeling tingly and your words buzzing at the contact, even through his clothes. He seemed to feel it to, and his head turned quickly to look at you. “If you can’t go on somewhere down the road, hide in a tree or… somethin’, just stay outta sight.”

He hurriedly told you to go, then, and to leave and never look back. 

He was hoping no one had noticed your absence yet and you hesitated for a moment when he got you out the backdoor. You had a lapse in judgment and, honestly, you wanted to kiss him. You wanted to put one hand on his chest, fingers curving against the dip between his collarbones and gently tracing his neck tattoo while the other tangled in that constantly mussed hair of his. That would be your thanks, you decided, a quick kiss but it would only make you ache more – the hollowness only going deeper.

He watched you as you watched him, your heart torn. 

Your soul ached for him, you wanted to cry as he told you to leave once more and you swallowed harshly and you swear, his eyes softened and he clenched his jaw and grit his teeth to keep that emotional shit to himself. 

Your lips moved slightly as you went to speak, but you heard a few yells and Donald Pierce looked you dead in the eyes as he said: "They'll kill ya if they find ya. They would'a done it, anyway. They harvested what they needed. You're useless to them," You knew he almost said _to us_ before continuing. "Jus' go." His eyes pleaded with you and the words on your calf burned and he clenched his cyber-hand as the words on his bicep did the same. "Go!" 

Then the door clicked shut behind him as he ran to hold them off, probably yelling something like how he tried to stop you or that he thought you went a certain way. Your body kicked into overdrive as your legs carried themselves down the concrete steps. You hauled ass through the ground level parking garage and you ran and ran and ran till you reached the edge of town and as you failed to do the day they caught you, you pushed on.

Your legs ached as your body did, as your mind did while it swirled with hectic, angry but equally sad thoughts, your heart and soul were in agony as you kept going. You were gasping for air as a rough-looking man outside his limousine cast you a curious glance. It quickly turned annoyed (but hopeful) as the flames on your hand licked up your arm and you slammed your hand on the hood of his limo to try and get them to calm down. 

He offered you a ride and you told him you had no money, he said you could deal with that fact later and you were grateful as you collapsed into the backseat… even as your cheek grazed a cushion with three slashes down the side.

You struggled to suck in the right amount of air, your body using its flames to send you into an almost-shock. 

It's amazing, really, that a mutation like yours doesn’t require a whole lot of oxygen in your body to use it, even as natural flames did.

(It's also amazing, really, that Donald Pierce risked his job and his life for you when you didn't even spare that same man a second glance.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoyed :))

**Author's Note:**

> haha everything i am is bad lmao look forward to more shit w/ donnie on my shitty page


End file.
